


Letters from Nowhere

by Selah



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Choose Your Own Ending, Epistolary, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selah/pseuds/Selah
Summary: Natima wrote to him when she could, even though she knew she couldn't risk sending them. Putting herself in danger was one thing, but putting Quark in danger was something she could never do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jeslieness @DW.org as part of the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico event last fall (yeah, it took awhile).

My dearest Quark,

It's only been three days since we fled ~~Terok Nor~~ Deep Space 9 and yet at times it feels like a lifetime. I fear any hopes of finding safety within the Federation are as good as dead now, but Rakelen still thinks we should try. I dare not say more than that, though. Until I am sure we are safe, this is all I can say. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

\- Natima 

_:: Message sent.  
:: Backtrace deleted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

For seven years I've told myself I didn't love you, that I'd never loved you. It was a lie, but I thought maybe if I said it enough I could make it true.

And then I shot you that day and I couldn't escape the truth any longer. There's a hole in my heart, Quark, one only you could fill. 

It's useless, of course. My students, my _people_ need me. Cardassia needs me. I could never be the sort of woman you want. Submissive. Subservient. Silent. It could never work between us, Quark, our races are too different. A Ferengi on Cardassia? Ludicrous. It's better that we leave the past behind. There can be no future for us.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted.  
:: Draft deleted._

~*~*~

Quark:

I thought you should know, Rakelen was right.  
Even so, I don't suppose I'll ever see you again.

\- Natima 

_:: Message sent.  
:: Backtrace deleted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

I'm sorry for the tone of my last letter. I wish I had the courage to tell you what you deserve to hear: I _do_ love you, Quark, I always have. But even the briefest contact puts you at risk. I know my people, they would not hesitate to try to use you against me. And so though I write of my love for you, it is only because I know this letter will never be sent.

Vulcan is a fascinating world and though I feel we are indeed safe here, I still cannot bear the thought of putting you at risk. It would be better for us both if you moved on with your life. I only wish I could do the same.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

Watching the Vulcan sunset this evening, I have never felt more alone. At least Rakelen and Hogue have each other. But they, too, are restless. Vulcan is safe, but there is little we can do for Cardassia from here. And nothing that would not put that safety at risk.

When we left Cardassia, the path forward seemed so clear. And now all I feel is doubt. I can't let all our work have been for nothing. I fear what that means for our future.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

....

 

_:: Message deleted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

Do you think about me at all? You once said I was the love of your life, but I wonder if you would still say that. Would you, could you still love me if you knew what I had done?

I don't regret any of it. I can't afford regret. Cardassia must change, or she will die on her own sword. But change is hard, especially for the military mind. Sometimes I fear violence is the only thing they know. And yet if we sink to their level, do we not become just as wrong?

I miss you.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

We have received word of more military crackdowns across Cardassia. The dream of true civilian rule has never felt more distant. Hogue insists we must take action. I fear what he intends will do more harm than good, but I cannot stop him. 

I miss you still.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

We've relocated to another planet outside Cardassia's reach and reunited with more of my students. We can't stay together like this for long, of course, but it is good to see them all again. I know as long as at least some of my students continue to live, continue to fight, my hopes for a better future for my people are not in vain.

I love you, Quark. Perhaps, someday, when all this is over, we can be together again.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

We just received word from Cardassia, one of my students, Kazan, was arrested and publically executed. Central Command said he was a dangerous radical who had been inciting the people to violence, but I know better. Kazan was an artist, not a fighter, but he, too, believed the power to govern did not belong in the hands of the Guls or the Obsidian Order.

Damara fears he was tortured before he was executed. None of us are safe anymore. I don't know where we'll go from here, but it's clear we must once again run for our lives. As much as I wish you were with me, I'm glad to know you are safe and unknown. I can't bear to think what the Order would do to you if they knew of my love for you.

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

Damara may have been more right than we wanted to believe. Hogue is dead, Rakelen captured. I never should have let them go off on their own, but so many needed me and I couldn't go with everyone. I have hoped...

It doesn't matter now, though, does it? I hate that I'm even considering it, but ... what if nothing we do changes anything? What if nothing we do _can_ change anything? What if my people are doomed to continue on this way for the next hundred years? The next thousand? What if everything I've done is simply erased by the Order? History is written by the victors. When they have hunted us all to extinction, who will be left to tell our stories?

I wish I dared risk sending you these messages. Maybe...

\- Natima 

_:: Message drafted._

~*~*~

_:: All drafts deleted._

 

Garak:

Tell him for me.

\- Natima 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted in the tags, this is a Choose Your Own Ending fic. If you'd like the tragic ending, proceed to chapter 2. If you'd prefer the happy ending, skip straight to chapter 3. The first page or so of each is the same, so if you accidentally start at the wrong one, it'll be fine. ;)


	2. [Tragic End]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tragic ending version. Assumes an unspecified amount of time not less than 18 months has passed since Natima left DS9.

Quark was used to seeing Garak coming into his establishment in the evenings by now. When the tailor took a seat at the bar, well, that was fairly normal now, too. When he ordered a glass of k'hava wine instead of his usual kanar, however....

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Quark asked as he poured the man his drink.

“Like what?” Garak asked, nodding his thanks for the wine.

“Whatever it is you're about to tell me.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“Because,” Quark said with a little grunt, “for almost two years now you've come in here in the evenings. You sit somewhere - at a table if you're meeting Doctor Bashir again or at the bar if you intend to drink alone - you order a kanar, and then you pretend to be just like everyone else.”

“My dear Quark, has it ever occurred to you that maybe I _am_ just like everyone else?” Garak countered.

“Briefly. But you aren't, and we both know it,” Quark said, picking up a cloth to wipe down the bar, even though it didn't really need it. Garak smiled and sipped his wine. Quark waited. He hated waiting, but there was no use rushing the Cardassian.

“Have you ever had k'hava wine?” Garak asked at length.

“Once. Didn't care for it.”

“It's not a common drink these days, even among Cardassians. I'm surprised you even had a bottle.”

“I like to keep a varied stock. You never know who might come through that door,” Quark said, shrugging. He wished Garak would just get on with it already.

“True. One must meet all kinds in a place like this. Hear all sorts of news.”

Ah, they were getting closer. Maybe. Hopefully.

“It's good business, being on the doorstep of the Gamma Quadrant. The right news can be worth more than gold-pressed latinum, in the right hands.”

“So true, so true,” Garak agreed with another nod and a sip of his wine. “Still, I don't imagine you hear much from Cardassia.”

“Not lately,” Quark conceded. “Just what's in the press bulletins, just like everyone else.” 

He picked up a glass, intending to wipe it down as another excuse to stay with Garak, only to notice his hand was shaking. Putting the glass back, he selected a different one and poured himself a drink. He really wasn't meant for all this cloak and dagger intrigue, but when it came to Garak ... well, he had a feeling he was going to need it, sooner rather than later.

“I'm not surprised. Dark news travels quickly, but not many want to talk about arrests and terrorists,” Garak said and Quark set his drink down before he could drop it. From anyone else, it might have sounded like an idle comment, but if Quark had learned anything about Garak in the last couple of years, it was that the man didn't _make_ idle statements. Ever.

“Sounds like dark times,” he said, inwardly impressed with the steadiness of his voice, as if Cardassian internal politics meant nothing to him.

“Very. But then that tends to happen when one extinguishes the light.”

He couldn't take it anymore. Steadying himself with both hands on the bar, he leaned forward.

“Natima?”

“She did love you, you know.”

“I know,” Quark said, taking a deep breath. So. That was it. Any hopes or dreams for the future snuffed out just like that. It burned, a smoldering rage in his chest, but he was as helpless to do anything about it as he had been from the day she left. 

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“What else can you do?” Garak countered as he stood up. “Remember the good things. Try to live in a way that honors what's been lost.”

“... and how am I supposed to do that?”

“Well, if you don't know, then I'm sure I couldn't tell you.”

Quark downed his drink in one gulp.

“Rom! I'm going out. Don't burn the place down,” he growled at his brother. He needed to think, needed away from the constant noise of the bar. Maybe there wasn't anything he could actually do, but he certainly wasn't going to think of it while surrounded by the sound of the dabo tables.


	3. [Happy End]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending version. Assumes a passage of time not less than 18 months since Natima left DS9.

Quark was used to seeing Garak coming into his establishment in the evenings by now. When the tailor took a seat at the bar, well, that was fairly normal now, too. When he ordered a glass of k'hava wine instead of his usual kanar, however....

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Quark asked as he poured the man his drink.

“Like what?” Garak asked, nodding his thanks for the wine.

“Whatever it is you're about to tell me.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“Because,” Quark said with a little grunt, “for almost two years now you've come in here in the evenings. You sit somewhere - at a table if you're meeting Doctor Bashir again or at the bar if you intend to drink alone - you order a kanar, and then you pretend to be just like everyone else.”

“My dear Quark, has it ever occurred to you that maybe I _am_ just like everyone else?” Garak countered.

“Briefly. But you aren't, and we both know it,” Quark said, picking up a cloth to wipe down the bar, even though it didn't really need it. Garak smiled and sipped his wine. Quark waited. He hated waiting, but there was no use rushing the Cardassian.

“Have you ever had k'hava wine?” Garak asked at length.

“Once. Didn't care for it.”

“It's not a common drink these days, even among Cardassians. I'm surprised you even had a bottle.”

“I like to keep a varied stock. You never know who might come through that door,” Quark said, shrugging. He wished Garak would just get on with it already.

“True. One must meet all kinds in a place like this. Hear all sorts of news.”

Ah, they were getting closer. Maybe. Hopefully.

“It's good business, being on the doorstep of the Gamma Quadrant. The right news can be worth more than gold-pressed latinum, in the right hands.”

“So true, so true,” Garak agreed with another nod and a sip of his wine. “Still, I don't imagine you hear much from Cardassia.”

“Not lately,” Quark conceded. “Just what's in the press bulletins, just like everyone else.” 

He picked up a glass, intending to wipe it down as another excuse to stay with Garak, only to notice his hand was shaking. Putting the glass back, he selected a different one and poured himself a drink. He really wasn't meant for all this cloak and dagger intrigue, but when it came to Garak ... well, he had a feeling he was going to need it, sooner rather than later.

“I'm not surprised. Dark news travels quickly, but not many want to talk about arrests and terrorists,” Garak said and Quark set his drink down before he could drop it. From anyone else, it might have sounded like an idle comment, but if Quark had learned anything about Garak in the last couple of years, it was that the man didn't _make_ idle statements. Ever.

“Sounds like dark times,” he said, inwardly impressed with the steadiness of his voice, as if Cardassian internal politics meant nothing to him.

“Very. But then that tends to happen when one extinguishes the light.”

He couldn't take it anymore. Steadying himself with both hands on the bar, he leaned forward.

“Natima?”

“She did love you, you know.”

Quark closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.

“Isn't there something, anything you can do?”

“I'm doing it right now,” Garak said, finishing his wine and standing from the bar.

“Garak....”

“Six months.”

“Excuse me?”

“The new vintage of kanar,” the tailor said, sliding a small isolinear chip across the bar. “Pay on delivery, I'm afraid. It's a bit more than I expect you usually pay, but I think you'll find it _well_ worth the cost.”

Frowning, Quark huffed and slid the chip into his reader, waiting as the handheld translated the invoice from Cardassian to Ferengi.

“Six thousand ... Garak, are you...?” but when he looked up, the tailor was already gone. Quark was sorely tempted to just cancel the order immediately, but it wasn't like Garak to do something like this.

“... highway robbery,” he muttered, tucking the chip into an inner jacket pocket. He would have to ride the books extra hard to be sure he had enough liquid assets on hand at the right time. And pray they weren't visited by Grand Nagus Zek again in the meantime. A snort and he downed his drink. He was going to have to raise the prices on his holosuites again. Customers would complain, but better that than getting caught with “faulty” dabo tables again. He had gotten away with it once, but he didn't think Sisko would buy it again. _Or_ Odo.

~*~*~  
 _Six months later...._

“Quark”

“Not now, Odo, I'm busy,” Quark said.

“Yes, I'm aware. You have a rather large shipment due in ... just about now, am I right?”

“If you already know my business, then why are you even here?” Quark asked, sparing the shapeshifter a glance before turning back to one of his idiot employees. “And why are _you_ still here? I told you what we need, go down to the stock room and get it!”

“You are aware that such a ... _sizable_ shipment requires a customs inspection, correct?” Odo asked. It was ridiculous, almost tedious, but Quark couldn't actually say he was surprised. Any shipment valued at over six thousand strips of gold-pressed latinum was bound to catch Odo's attention.

“Yes, yes, and I'm sure all the crates will be properly marked and sealed for your inspection, Constable.”

He could hardly say he was surprised by Odo's snort. The shapeshifter was suspicious of everyone, but Quark knew he had given their security chief plenty of reasons to be extra suspicious of him in particular.

“Would it ease your mind at all if I said I wasn't the one who arranged this?” he asked, double checking everything was in order before turning and exiting his bar. Naturally, Odo simply fell into step with him.

“I find that hard to believe,” Odo said.

“Well it's true. Someone else set this up, I'm just taking delivery. Of kanar. A _lot_ of kanar, apparently.”

“Who?” Odo asked as they stepped onto the lift.

“If you _must_ know –.”

“Oh I definitely must,” Odo interrupted.

“Garak. It was Garak,” Quark said with a huff of annoyance. Maybe if he acted like _that_ was the big secret, Odo would let up? Okay, probably not, but a Ferengi had to try.

“I never realized our tailor was so ... _particular_ about his kanar.”

“Neither did I. Looks like we've both learned something,” Quark said, hurrying a little as he headed to the docking ring and the berth where the Rigellian freighter was waiting. He was certain the freighter had business with more than just himself, but it was still never a good idea to keep a Rigellian waiting.

A Bajoran security officer was waiting at the airlock and Quark felt his stomach twist. The Jelna Rigellian trader standing next to the lock looked particularly angry and that was never a good sign. 

“Problem, Nemin?” Odo asked.

“The problem is I'm being harassed just for doing business with Cardassians,” the Jelna trader insisted before Nemin could even open his mouth. “All my cargo has been inspected and certified by Federation officials before we even entered this system, some of it twice!”

“Nemin?” Odo repeated.

“His seals all check out –.”

“See?! Harassment!”

“– but there's an irregularity with the crate for Quark,” the man continued, gesturing towards the off-loaded cargo that was half filling the bay around them.

“What sort of irregularity?”

The Bajoran officer hesitated a moment, then started walking into the maze of cargo, mumbling about it would be easier to just show them. Quark didn't really know what else to do but to follow, ending up at a crate easily twice his height and at least half-again that in width.

“I have never seen kanar shipped like this,” the Bajoran said.

“Well if you knew how much I was paying,” Quark muttered, though apparently not quietly enough for Odo not to catch it.

“Just how many bottles of kanar did our tailor order?” Odo asked. As if the man didn't already know the manifest just as well as Quark did.

“A lot,” he said, eyeing the crate warily. He'd never seen kanar shipped like that either, and he'd been doing business with Cardassians for years.

“You've scanned the crate?” Odo asked, turning back to his officer.

“The handheld couldn't scan the interior, I was just waiting on a report from Ops.”

_“Odo, I need you to meet me in Cargo Bay Eight. We've got a bit of a problem.”_

“I'm already here, Chief. This wouldn't have anything to do with Quark's unusual kanar shipment, would it?”

_“That's not kanar.”_

~*~*~

Quark could still hear the Jelna Rigellian complaining, but he had stopped listening. More of Odo's security officers had joined them, along with Chief O'Brien, a couple of his technicians, and, oddly, Doctor Bashir. The chief and his team were being particularly careful about opening the crate, almost as if they were expecting to find a bomb inside. Or perhaps he should say systematically dismantling it. Quark was thinking about how he might best get his revenge on Garak for putting him in the middle of this, whatever this was, especially since the tailor was now insisting he knew nothing about it.

When the crate opened to reveal a Cardassian stasis pod plugged into a generator, the doctor's presence suddenly made much more sense. Which still left Quark baffled to why Garak would have arranged something like this, let alone why the bastard had insisted on involving _him_ of all people.

“Just kanar, eh, Quark?”

“Odo, I'm telling you....”

“Yes, yes, you swear on your mother you have no idea how this could have happened.”

Quark didn't know how yet, but someday, some way, he was definitely getting even.

“It's all right, Constable,” Doctor Bashir said rather suddenly. “I can see why whoever did this took such extreme precautions. Give me a moment and I should have her out of here.”

Quark's head jerked up at that. Did he just say “her”? Quark could feel his heart pounding so hard for a minute he thought he might pass out.

“... Quark?”

“Her,” he mumbled, stumbling over to a crate short enough for him to sit down. “He said her.”

“... doctor, I think you're about to have another patient on your hands....”

“Breathe, Quark!” Bashir called out from on top of the oversized stasis pod. “Five more minutes.”

“Five minutes, right,” Quark repeated, rubbing his forehead a moment. This ... this wasn't at all what he had been expecting. Another breath and he forced himself up, keeping an eye on Odo as he made his way over to the Jelna trader.

“Here,” he muttered, “take your payment and shut up. Before they think to accuse you of trafficking.”

“I didn't –.”

“I'm not saying anything, just take it and be quiet,” Quark repeated before making a circuitous return to the stasis pod. Odo hadn't moved, but Quark wasn't about to assume that meant he hadn't been seen. Still, he wasn't going to say anything, forcing himself not to start pacing either.

“Professor? How are you feeling?”

“I ... where am I?”

“Safe. You're somewhere safe.”

“That remains to be seen,” Odo muttered.

“A little faith, constable,” the doctor admonished. “If you're feeling up to it, Professor ... I'd like to see you in my Infirmary, but I think someone else would like to see you first.”

For a moment, Quark felt as if the whole universe had stopped. And then there she was, the one true love of his life, the only thing that had ever meant more to him than latinum.

“Natima....”

“Quark. But how ... I can't.... Surely I can't stay here....”

“As long as you don't try to contact your old students, I think I could manage not to notice you were even here,” Odo said.

“But....”

“Actually,” Bashir said as he haded Odo a Cardassian datapad, “according to this, Professor Natima Lang was executed eighteen weeks ago for crimes against the state. Neither Bajor nor the Federation are under any obligation to report a thing to anyone.”

“E-executed?” Natima stammered, obviously shocked. Quark couldn't say he blamed her, something like hope starting to flutter in his chest.

“You were a dangerous radical, of course you were executed,” Odo said with a little grunt. “Well, inasmuch as you're dead, there's nothing here for me to do. Gentlemen, ma'am.”

A sharp nod and Odo and his men were leaving. Natima looked more than a little shell-shocked still, Bashir pulling out his medical tricorder for a moment.

“Well,” Bashir said, producing a hoverchair from Quark didn't even care where, “if you'll have a seat, I thought we might start with a trip to the Infirmary to make sure there's been no permanent damage while the Chief here sees what else is in this crate. A new identity, at the very least, I expect. Garak would have been quite thorough, I'm certain.”

“... I could almost kiss that man,” Quark said, a giddy laugh threatening to escape.

“Quark!”

“Just promise you'll stay with me this time. Please, Natima, I can't lose you again. Please say you'll stay.”

Natima's silence said more than words and Quark could feel his heart breaking again. He didn't know what he had been expecting, she had already chosen her cause over him once, why had he ever thought that might have changed?

“As your doctor, I have to insist you don't make any decisions right now. You _have_ just spent five and a half months in stasis. Let's just ... take this all one step at a time, okay?”

“Of ... of course.”

~*~*~

My dearest Quark,

Before you get upset or angry, I feel I should tell you that I've only gone to Bajor and expect to be back in a few days. Please don't think your words have fallen on deaf ears, my love. But this is something I need to do, for the both of us.

I do love you, Quark, but I need to feel like my life has meaning still. Life just for the sake of living isn't enough. I can't return to Cardassia and make a mockery of all of Elim's efforts. But I can't find my purpose just sitting on this station, either.

I promise, I will return to you before I decide anything, my love.

\- Natima 

~*~*~

Quark read the letter again and huffed. Well, it was certainly better than the last message he'd had from her. He didn't know what she thought she was going to figure out by going to Bajor, but if it helped her get to a place where she would stay with him, he would take it. Whatever she wanted, he would find a way to make it happen. For them both.


End file.
